


Far From Family.

by AutumnLily



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Implied Incest, OOC, Original Character(s), implied imperiused rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 18:28:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9561458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnLily/pseuds/AutumnLily
Summary: A sequence of wretched misfortunes leads to Draco's upbringing by his father's secret shame; the disowned Lovegood's, where Draco learns, from his third cousin, Luna, compassion, kindness, authenticity and playfulness.Soon after his eleventh birthday Draco receives news that his family home is his to take, should he wish to return.Who, from Draco's past will return to restore the Malfoy honour?Once back at Malfoy Manor Draco finds himself inexplicably drawn to the daughter of his new Governess, a short girl with wild hair and bucked teeth.Luna, moving through her grievances, begins to turn from the gentle, sweet girl Draco grew up with, into something more.Will the threads which have woven between Draco and Hermione be enough - or is there a stronger, more malicious force at work here, using the children as puppets to work towards their own agenda?Who may survive is anyone's guess.***Complete; uploaded in 6 parts.





	1. In the beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [K.B](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=K.B).



> Thank you to K.B for this random and inspiring prompt!
> 
> "Draco grows up with the Lovegoods!"
> 
> The idea I began with mutated, quickly, this was supposed to be fluff. I felt possessed while writing this, I wrote it over an eighteen hour period, sitting down for three-hour stints and banging away at my keyboard until the noise gave me a headache.
> 
> The first chapter became macabre very quickly. Violent. Plot-driven.
> 
> Chapters 2,3,4 were lighter, angsty, raw. Each scene necessary to show character development, to move towards the reveal and to progress towards the ending. 
> 
> Chapter 5 is twisted. Sorry, not sorry. I love this confession. She is one twisted sister.
> 
> Chapter 6... The ending... *sigh* I'd love to hear your thoughts, positive or negative.

“Please, my Lord, I beg of you! Leave my child be!”

“If you wanted a sanctuary for your bloodline, Narcissa, you should have leashed your husband. Attempting to overthrow me for his gain – pathetic.”

Narcissa’s eyes darted to her husband’s lifeless body in front of the fireplace, the orange flames still roaring behind him, the room warm but her heart cold and numb.

Voldemort raised his wand arm “Avada Ked - ”

Narcissa threw her body at him, shoving him into the fireplace, his robes immediately lighting as she breathed a nonverbal incantation to turn the flame to fiend fire. The inferno engulfed him, his screams echoing through the house. He turned to Narcissa as she stood, in fascinated horror, watching.

“All you had to do was leave my Draco alone…” 

“Sectumsempra!” Voldemort’s wand slashed through the air as his body collapsed, lifeless. Unbeknownst to him Dumbledore had received correspondence from Regulus Black and had been slowly, but surely destroying his lines to humanity and immortality. The last of the Horcruxes were destroyed that morning. Voldemort’s eyes blinked once as Narcissa’s blood sprayed from the wound in a jagged line from her cheek to her belly. She fell forwards, and as she did, she heard the sound that took away her pain.

“Mama?”

Her beautiful boy, Draco. Her only child, her life and love and the reason for allowing Lucius to attempt the destruction of the Dark Lord; the Lord who never really cared for them nor their child. Voldemort’s destruction ensured Draco’s survival, and for that, at least, she was grateful.

Narcissa reached out a hand, and her three-year-old son kissed the back of it, a gentleman, like his father. “Mama?” Draco repeated.

“Mama has to take,” she took a shuddering breath as blood began filling her lungs, “a long nap, now, darling. Take this to the portrait behind the door in Papa’s study.” She offered him her wand. “Tap it three times in each corner and it will, it will…” Narcissa coughed, blood pouring from her lips. With the last remnants of strength and life remaining she touched Draco’s face. “Mama loves you, Draco. You will always be loved – remember that.” Her limp hand fell to the floor. 

Draco, confused, but ever obedient to his mother, wandered through the dark empty mansion to his father’s study. He entered and stared at the image behind the door. A tall, blonde man stood in front of a house shaped like a turret. He was wearing a necklace of radishes and a vacant expression. A small child was standing beside him; she looked curiously like Draco, the same thin, silver hair, the pointed chin, wide blue eyes and high cheekbones. The little girl was adorned in a pale purple gown with green cuffs and was not keeping the solemn stillness of her father, but rather chasing small garden gnomes around his ankles squealing in laughter. 

Draco tapped the portrait, his mother’s words ringing through his head, and the image in the frame disappeared. Draco was now looking into a circular study, a large printing press on the right, the tall blonde man on the left tinkering with a pensieve. The man looked up, startled.

“No… No! What has happened, boy? Why do you summon me? This is only to be used in emergencies!”

“Mama had to take a very long nap. She looked ouch. Papa would not wake up. Mama sent me to you?” Draco’s voice was small and vulnerable. Out of nowhere ran appeared the little girl. 

She stopped and stared into the frame, seeing Draco, then turned to her father and said “Daddy, he’s hurt, it is all over his aura. Come, Draco. You’re home now; you’re safe with us.”

She extended her hand through the frame and Draco clasped his fingers around hers allowing himself to step inside the home of his father’s secret shame, the disowned third cousins, the Lovegood’s.

***

Seven uneventful years went by. Luna and Draco grew, as happy as two motherless children can be. Both were healthy from the odd plant filled diet Xenophilius prepared each day and both strong from the assistance they offered around the Lovegood property; chasing gnomes, weeding veggie beds, catching fish in the stream for supper on the odd occasion they had company. From Luna, Draco learned how to laugh again, from Draco, Luna discovered how to move in stealth mode, and together they would play Hide and Seek for hours, utilising the entire property for their manhunt games. 

Luna and Draco turned eleven four months apart. They received their owls and had plans to visit Diagon Alley with Xenophilius in preparation for the school year when a Magical Law Enforcement Officer appeared at their door. 

“Mr Lovegood, I am here to speak with Draco.”

“Uh, no, err, no, no thank you, good day.” Xenophilius had attempted to close the door. However magic was holding it ajar. 

“I’m afraid it is not up to you. I am following orders from the will of his parents. He is eleven now. All of their possessions, the Malfoy Manor, the contents of their vault, their shares in numerous magical businesses, the Malfoy wing at St Mungo's – it is all now transferred into Draco’s name.”

“No, no, no thank you.” Coughed Xenophilius. “The child has enough here, he is well fed, well loved, he has a sister of sorts, and he laughs more than his father did in a lifetime. I’m afraid that as his legal guardian I cannot allow this.”

“Mr Lovegood, are you aware you are in fact not the legal guardian of Draco Malfoy?”

“I beg your pardon young sir!” Blustered Xenophilius. “I have been caring for the child since he walked through my frame eight years ago! His mother came to me when she was pregnant; I made the unbreakable vow to take him in and treat him as my own should something sinister happen to his parents. Well, I am here, so obviously the boy has been well cared for in my home and my heart!”

“I do not deny this, Mr Lovegood. It is due to the unbreakable vow we were unable to come for Draco sooner. His eleventh birthday, however, signifies his transcendence into autonomous magical learning, this alleviates you of the vow and allows Draco to utilise his parent's money to find himself a Governess, move back into his family home and be the Malfoy he is born to be.”

“I think, Mr Ministry Official, that we can both agree the Malfoy’s were quite right in sending Draco to me rather to another in the family. Here Draco has learned humility, compassion, kindness, generosity. What would he have learnt under the likes of his aunt Bellatrix had she not been incarcerated in Azkaban? How to main and torture? How to spill his family’s blood? No. Thank you once more, but I will not allow this.”

“The decision is not yours, Mr Lovegood. Please fetch Draco.”

“Uhh, I, well, you can’t just - ”

“Mr Lovegood, we can settle this now, by simply offering this to Draco; if he wishes to remain here that is fine, we will place his assets in a trust which he can access at the age of seventeen. If you refuse, I will be forced to come back with a squad.”

“Very well then!” Huffed Xenophilius. He pushed beyond the Official into the garden and sent a Patronus to the East. “The children enjoy playing Hide and go Seek. They may take a few minutes to return.” Xenophilius went back to his doorway, blocking any ideas the Ministry Official may have had about continuing the discussion inside. The Official noted this and stepped back. Xenophilius stared everywhere, but the Officials face for seven minutes until they heard puffing and footsteps.

“Yes, Daddy?” Panted Luna.

“Ah, Luna, would you be so kind as to fetch a glass of water for all four of us?” 

“Of course, Daddy.” She squeezed by Xenophilius and went to the kitchen. Draco stayed behind, looking wryly at the Official.

“You’re from the Ministry.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I am, Mr Malfoy.”

“I am Draco. My father was the rightful Mr Malfoy. I am more of a Lovegood.”

“Not anymore, Draco. You turned eleven yesterday. Your father’s instructions entitle you to everything in the Malfoy name. If you so choose you may move back into the Malfoy Manor, hire a Governess to care for you, begin trading in the Malfoy businesses. If, however, you wish to remain…” he looked around the garden dubiously, “here… ahem… we will place your assets in a trust which will be accessible on your seventeenth birthday.”

Draco stared at the man. It had never before occurred to him that everything his parents had once owned would be his. It made logical sense. However, Draco, being raised by Xenophilius with an emphasis on family over money, had never thought much about his inheritance.

“I uh… I… My mother’s home?” breathed Draco, a desperate desire beginning to grow within to once again feel her warmth around him.  
“Yes, Draco. Your mother’s home.”

“May I… may I see it before I decide?”

“Of course. Come.” He extended a hand and Draco reached out but was pulled back by Xenophilius. 

“If Draco goes, we all go.”

“Where are we going, Daddy?” asked Luna carrying a tray with a pitcher and four glasses.

“To visit Draco’s childhood home.”

Luna dropped the tray, the glass shattering on the stone path beneath her feet, water spraying the legs of all within proximity. Her eyes clouded over as the vision came upon her.

“The place marked by life and death will be our undoing…” 

She shook her head. “Sorry, Daddy, I think a Wrackspurt got me… Are we off to Draco’s home? How exciting, Draco! You often speak of your mother!”

Xenophilius sighed, seeing no way to avoid this.

He took the hands of the children and allowed the Official to place a hand on his shoulder as they apparated to the long straight drive in front of Malfoy Manor.

Draco looked up at the high iron wrought gates blocking their entry.

“It will open only for a Malfoy.” Said the Official. “No one has been allowed in since the evening you left. There may be some clean up required; I have paperwork allowing me to take care of this while you inspect your old room before we begin the tour.”

Draco reached forwards and touched the gates, immediately they dissolved allowing clear passage to the four newcomers.

Draco took a tentative step forward and then turned to Luna.

“I’m scared…” he whispered. 

“I know.” She said casually, taking his hand and leading him forwards. “But you taught me we have to face our fears, Draco… We can do it together.” 

Draco pushed open the high, double mahogany doors leading into the large, airy foyer. A faintly metallic scent could be picked up amidst the must and lavender. The Official stepped in behind Draco and muttered “Oh my… Oh, putrid…” and then loudly said “I must follow my orders, I am to take care of the clean-up. Please, Mr Malfoy, begin upstairs and make your way down slowly. I am not allowed to let you see anything… unseemly…” With the Official side stepped and walked directly towards the smell, covering his face with his robe, his wand pointed in ahead of him.

“Luna… I remember… I think I remember…” The smell had triggered something in Draco. He didn’t want to see it. He heard the thud as his mother’s hand fell to the floor, the warmth on his face, the stickiness of whatever it was. His father asleep by the fire, not waking up. The black charcoaled robes and the sickening smell of roast pig. 

Draco turned, bolting towards the smell, knowing he was going to witness horror, but needing to see his mother’s last resting place once more before the Ministry Official cleansed the room.

“Recanto Lebifillius, agante reverso, agua bloodra en cintre le meurto!” 

“What are you doing?” Demanded Draco as he threw open the study doors. The Official was kneeling over the charcoaled cloak in front of the fire. His face was red; his wrists slit, blood pouring into a chalice in front of Voldemorts remains. He pointed his wand at Draco and threw him back against the wall. 

“Idiot child. Unbreakable vows cannot be broken, no matter what. Xenophilus is your rightful master until you reach seventeen. I only needed you to grant me entry into the Manor.”

He turned back to the body, Draco screamed, and Luna and Xenophilius came rushing in. Luna threw herself at the Official and knocked him sideways, the chalice falling and the blood seeping out mixing with that of Narcissa’s bones… the magic he had poured into his veins to bring Voldemort back to life now breathing life into Draco’s mother. Draco watched, in astonishment as the bones began clinking together, veins appearing from nowhere, flesh weaving itself across tendons and sinews… Xenophilius was now holding the Official at bay as Luna scrambled to retrieve Lucius silver letter opener with the serpentine handle from the desk. She threw it at the Official who dodged, and it hit Xenophilius square in the chest. 

“Nooo!!!! Daddy!!!” Luna’s cries empowered Draco, he pushed himself off the wall, withdrew the knife from his carer’s chest and handed it to Luna. He pointed his mother's wand at the Official, having never before attempted a spell, but carrying the stick with him in memory of her, and said the only thing that came to mind, the spell he had read about numerous times and had wanted to try on anyone who hurt his loved one.

“Crucio.”  
The Official fell backwards writhing in pain as his veins turned to lava and his muscles strangled themselves. Luna stepped over her father’s dead body, her eyes blank and devoid her optimism. 

“This is for my Daddy.” She slowly, methodically plunged the letter opener into the chest of the Official repetitively until Draco had to pull her off him, both were covered in blood, both panting heavily. 

“Draco?”

Draco and Luna turned, he with his wand arm held high, Luna with the knife at the ready. They froze as Narcissa stood before them.

“Mama? Mother?” stammered Draco.

“Oh, Draco!” Narcissa ran forwards and scooped her boy in her arms, not caring they were both covered in thick, red liquid, nor that the study still held the bones of her husband, the charred remains of her old master, the corpse of her third-cousin-in-law and the gutted remains of the Official. She kissed Draco’s blood stained face over and over until, blushing, he gently stepped back.

“Mama, this is Luna. She’s… she is… Luna is my sister.”

“Of course.” Purred Narcissa. She turned to Luna. “Dear. Your father took my son in when I was venturing through the Summerlands, I will, of course, offer you sanctuary in the Malfoy Manor.” She opened her arms, and Luna stepped in, face blank, eyes dead. 

“Thank you, Great-Aunt.” Whispered Luna before allowing herself to succumb to the grief and beginning to sob softly.


	2. And So It Is

“Draco, Luna! Please come down; your new Governess is here.”

Draco and Luna stepped lightly down the large staircase in Malfoy Manor leading to the entrance foyer. A tall lady with unruly brown hair, pale skin and lightly freckled skin stood before them. 

“Good morning ma petites. I am Eleanor Granger; I vill be caring for you vhile your Mama is at vork, and zhen I vill be staying on to ‘elp your Mama around ze ‘ome when you go off to ‘Ogwarts in a months’ time.” Purred the Governess Granger in a thick French accent.   
Narcissa stepped into the light. “Her daughter, Hermione, will also be joining you at Hogwarts. Eleanor is a squib; she married a muggle who passed away when Hermione was only a baby. I’m sure the three of you will find some mutual interests and common ground, if only in the fact that each of you has lost parents.” Narcissa ushered a short girl in; she was the spitting image of her mother minus the French accent.

“Good morning.” She curtsied. 

“There is no need for that here, Hermione, you will be treated like the other children. Your room is in the second corridor across from Luna next to Draco. You will rise at 7 am sharp and eat breakfast with the family. You will attend the Latin tutoring at 9 am, and then you will read with Draco and Luna in the library. We eat lunch at 1 pm; then it is free time until 4 pm when you will all be under the instruction of a great magical artist. Dinner will be at seven sharp in the master dining room. I, uh, understand that neither Luna nor Draco eat meat?” Luna and Draco nodded their approval. “In which case neither shall we.” 

Eleanor was standing close by writing ferocious notes with a pencil and notebook. 

“Vhat of my ozer duties, Mrs Malfoy.”

Narcissa beckoned her forwards, and they began walking down the east hallway, the voice of Draco’s mother lingering as they went… “Silver wear shall require polishing every Sunday, the garden to be tended to, general house duties; I will hire a new chef. Together we will restore Malfoy Manor and make it something to be proud of!” 

Draco shuffled his feet awkwardly. He had lived with Luna for as long as he could remember, but he had never felt this odd in her presence. She had become quiet, distant, since the death of her father, and she had not once wanted to play with him. The new girl, standing in front of Draco, was… there was no other word… breathtaking. Her hair was dancing on her shoulders, her teeth slightly too large were pushing her top lip out creating a plump effect, her cheeks gently flushed and a smattering of light freckles wove across her nose.

“You will both be going to Hogwarts?” The young lady enquired.

Luna only nodded and then wandered away. She looked back over her shoulder and then sighed, deeply, before ascending the staircase. Draco and Hermione heard her bedroom door slam behind her. 

“That’s not because of you,” Draco began quickly. “She murdered her father, only last week… I mean it was an accident, but… well…”  
“Yes, your mother gave my mother the dot points… I… well, I am sorry to hear about everything, but I am grateful your mother has returned, both for you and for me.” Hermione blushed, realising she had said too much.  
“Why for you?” pushed Draco.

“My father didn’t have much when he died. My mum, she uh, she drank a lot the year after he died. Squandered what we had. She’s a dental nurse, but she couldn’t hold herself together, and they had to lay her off when she showed up drunk. That’s why she now cleans houses…” Hermione looked down at her shoes.

“Your mum must be brave.” Draco countered. “Many people would just give up. At least she’s doing what she can to take care of you.” Hermione looked up at him through her thick eyelashes, a small smile spreading over her lips.

“You’re not what I was expecting…”

“What were you expecting?”

“The last family my mother worked for, the Zabini’s, they spoke of your father, of your mother… the way they sounded… I, I suppose I assumed you would be like them. But your mother is lovely.”

“I don’t know the Zabini’s well. My dad used to be friends with their mum, I read it in my mother’s journal. I guess we’ll find out at school…” Draco trailed off. He had been dreading Hogwarts ever since his mother returned. He knew that everyone was aware; she had walked into the Ministry as though she had not been dead for almost a decade, and had attempted to have high tea with the Minister as she and Lucius had done in the past. The Auror squad had stopped her and tested for hours. She was not an inferi, an apparition, a ghost, an imposter, under the imperius, nor another wizard using polyjuice. She was, in fact, Narcissa Malfoy, dead wife of Lucius Malfoy, war hero, who gave his life to save his son and cement the destruction of Voldemort. News had spread fast, and Narcissa’s old circle had flocked back, women from high society all wanting to be the first to see, speak with, dine with, the Lazarus of their era. Narcissa rebuked all offers, insisting she needed time to reconnect with her son and get her affairs in order. 

Draco was now terrified. Although he had Luna, he felt she would not be in Slytherin with him and was uncertain how to handle himself without his best friend. 

Hermione moved forwards, concerned by the expressions passing over his face.

“Do you want to go for a walk, Draco? I find it helps clear my head.” Draco nodded.

He extended his elbow, Hermione hesitated and then gripped it. They explored the ground together, wandering around the rose bushes, the topiary, and the hedge maze. Draco was stunned to find he still knew the way to the centre. Hermione and Draco giggled as they spotted magical obstacles which he knew to avoid, and marvelled at the flowers blossoming out of season and in the wrong climate. They left the maze and found Luna sitting at the entrance.

“My Daddy always said one would find themselves when they are most lost. I feel lost. Draco, help me.” She reached out and wrapped her arms around Draco who pulled her into a tight hug. He held her for a few minutes, feeling her tears sliding onto his neck. He patted her hair and swayed her side to side. Luna clung on to him sobbing into his shoulder in heavy gulps and exhales. After her tears had dried out, Luna let go. Draco looked for Hermione and saw her in the distance, walking back to the Manor, alone.

Draco turned to Luna.

“What do you need, Luna? How can I help you?” 

“You can start by being with me, Draco! I am your sister, not her! You should be showing me your home! This is where you grew up? I’ve lived with you for years and had no idea how opulent your previous life was! Is this who you are?” She pointed at the peacocks strutting across the turf to their left. “Is this the real Draco Malfoy? What happened to Draco Lovegood? The boy who promised he’d never leave me? Who would skin his knees on stones in the pond, ripping his wet robes and laugh? Now, look at us!” She gestured at their clothing, gifts from Narcissa. Draco stood in a long emerald green robe with silver cuffs and collar, the Slytherin emblem on his chest. Luna wore satin robes in fuschia with white filly cuffs and collar. “This isn’t me, Draco. I don’t know who I am anymore, but I know I am not this person.” Luna turned on her heel and walked away from him, in the opposite direction than Hermione had departed.

Draco stood there, uneasy, confused. He didn’t know how to reach out to Luna. He wanted to get to know Hermione. He needed to be here, with his mother, but on one level Luna was right. This wasn’t Draco. This wasn’t how he had been raised.

“It was how you would have been raised had your parents survived…” a small voice in the back of his head countered. “All of this, yours, daily. Silks, gems, priceless art, morning tea with the Minister; all of this belongs to you, heir of Malfoy. It is your right, your destiny.”  
Draco dismissed this thought and looked between the disappearing silhouettes of the girls. His mind told him he needed to follow Luna. His heart told him to find his mother. Instead, he turned and ran after Hermione.

He caught up with her as she was ascending the staircase to her room.

“Hermione!” Draco called. She turned at the top and leant on the bannister.

“Yes?” she called down the stairs.

He looked up at her, the candelabra mounted on the wall behind her creating a golden halo around her curls.

“I, uh, you left quickly.”

“Your sister needed you. It is not my place to interfere with the affairs of the family we work for.” She turned and walked into her room, closing the door gently behind her. Draco bolted up the stairs, knocking rapidly on her door. She opened it a few inches and stared at him impassively.

“Yes, Master Malfoy?”

“Please, don’t do that. We’re, I, it’s not like that.”

“It is, though.” She nodded to confirm her words. “It is like that. My mother works for your mother. I am only here due to that reason.” She once again closed her bedroom door, and Draco felt something he had not experienced since he had failed to wake his father as a child. It began in his chest, a contraction moving outwards to constrict his lungs, his breathing becoming tighter. His face felt cold, his extremities numb. He felt disembodied, like this moment was not real. It was at that moment he realised that he liked Hermione. He really, genuinely liked her. He’d known her for mere hours, yet the time they had spent together, laughing, wandering, sharing… he had never felt this for anyone in his life. A genuine connection built off authentic curiosity, a shared compassion and an intimacy of knowing they shared the pain in having lost their father – unlike Luna both Draco and Hermione had integrated this loss and had grown from it. Draco felt a rapport with her. 

He understood, now, that she needed time. He, too, needed time. All three were going through heavy life transitions. Hermione had been displaced, right before heading to a school, she had never visited before. Luna had lost her father and was unable to accept this fact, and uprooted from her childhood home into the Malfoy Manor, a place she had detested as she had heard stories from her father regarding the Malfoy’s dark history. Draco himself was reeling from the unforeseen return of his mother, his sudden shift back to the place he had lost both his parents… and he was in love.

Draco shook his head as he headed to his bedroom. Tomorrow their home tutoring sessions began. He had to figure out how to spend time with both Hermione and Luna, preferably apart. He understood that Luna felt jealous over the appearance of a new girl, one with whom Draco wanted to spend time. Luna most likely felt she was losing her brother after having only just lost her father. Hermione did not wish to jeopardise her mother’s position by upsetting Luna, who Hermione considered to be above her station. Draco had never been in such a complicated situation before. He needed time alone to think, to ponder…

“Draco!” His mother’s voice shook him out of his internal ruminations. He turned immediately and followed the echoes of her voice.


	3. It Continues...

The week after Draco’s walk through the maze with Hermione had been extremely hectic. His mother had brought in a Latin tutor; the children had been meeting in the drawing room each morning after breakfast and showers to translate old texts and then proceeding to the Malfoy library to read the classical magical texts. Draco had barely a moment to himself, let alone a moment for either Luna or Hermione.

Draco’s mother had started accepting invitations to dinners, performances, openings, and exhibitions. The children spent their evenings dining under the watchful eye of Governess Granger and then ushered into their separate rooms to complete their Latin homework before bed. It was finally a Sunday without pre-school classes. Draco’s mother was off on yet another adventure, and Governess Granger was at the other end of the property tending to the topiary. Draco, taking advantage of this rare moment of solitude, wandered casually past Hermione’s room, preparing to knock and ask if he might escort her around the Malfoy Manor as none had yet had a full exploration. Narcissa continued speaking of “the finishing touches” to be implemented before she would allow the children to investigate further. She had a party planned for the evening before the children were to return to Hogwarts; all the prominent Wizarding families and some not so prominent would be there, along with their children. Narcissa thought it imperative to put on a good show before school so Draco would enter into Hogwarts as he should have; the envy of every boy and the desire of every girl; articulate; well mannered; aesthetically pleasing; extensively read; and fluent in both French and Latin. 

Draco was bored with this new life, he missed the old days, running around with Luna instead of shut up in the dark, candlelit library, nibbling on a few nuts and berries for lunch rather than a three course degustation, creating wild designs for the Quibbler instead of perfecting the techniques of the masters of fine art. Each time Draco had attempted to speak to Luna, in the moments between studies, meals and bed, she was cool, distant and quiet. 

Draco came to Hermione’s door. He was happy to find it ajar and was about to reach out and knock when he heard her voice.  
“It doesn’t matter. Apparently, there are a dozen or so muggle born's each year; no one will care I was raised by a squib. No one will mind if I am behind in classes due to never having seen practical magic by my parents. I’m sure everyone will be lovely – not everyone can be as rude as the Zabini’s or the Greengrass’s. If I keep reading, if I read everything I can get my hands on, if I remember it, if I impress them with my knowledge, then I will be accepted, I will make friends, I will not be alone…”

Draco moved to look through the gap. Hermione was in her day dress, it was unzipped at the back, and her pastel yellow singlet was showing through the gap of the sapphire silk dress, a gift from his mother. It seemed as though she had been getting changed but was now speaking to her reflection, gesticulating wildly, her expression solemn and concerned. 

“I will be fine. I am capable; I am adaptable, I am strong. I have been through worse, I have lost family, I have had my life uprooted on a few occasions, and this is simply another relocation. I will be fine. I will ingratiate myself with my house-mates, I will be a good student, I will keep myself out of trouble, away from people who attempt to distract me from my goals, I will not waste this opportunity.”

She took a deep breath in through her nose and then held it for seven seconds, finally opening her mouth and breathing out slowly. Draco watched in amazement as her face cleared of the ruddiness that had appeared during her speech, how her posture changed, her spine lengthening and her neck straightening. Hermione took two more breaths like this and then reached around to continue unzipping her dress. She allowed it to slip to the floor and Draco pulled away from the gap.

Draco quietly stepped away and went to the staircase, silently descending five steps, turning and loudly making his way back up to her room to alert her to his presence. He knocked three times and stood to the left so that he could not see through the gap, allowing her the illusion of privacy. 

The door was pulled open, and there stood Hermione, her hair now parted, one side in a tight braid, the other side tangled in her fingers, an emerald green silk singlet over long, fitted black silk trousers with the Slytherin crest on each ankle.

“Draco! I’m glad you’re here!”

“You are? I mean, I’m glad to see you too.”

“I have been reading ‘Hogwarts, a History’, to gain a comprehensive understanding of the social structure we will be entering. My mother, as you well know, is a squib, and as such the only knowledge I have of the houses is from the Zabini’s. Blaise spoke fervently of Slytherin, he claimed it to the best house, the grandest, the most opulent, however, I doubt I can trust his perception due to the nature of his family affairs. Do you happen to know about the houses? Do you know into which house you'll be sorted? What about Luna? There are so many unknown variables; I am just overwhelmed, but excited!”

She pulled the door wider and allowed Draco to step inside. She gestured to her bed, and Draco sat, tentatively, at the foot, unsure if his mother would approve of him being alone, in the private quarters of a young female.

“I know a bit about the houses,” started Draco, his speech interrupted by an unexpected knock at the door. Hermione moved towards it and, feeling the same unease as Draco about being alone, opened it slightly, to obscure Draco from view should his mother have returned early and be on the other side.

“Luna!” Hermione was startled.

“I have needed to be away from myself and to do that I had to be away from others. I have been by the peacocks, searching for my Daddy. Not my real father, you understand, but any messages he may have left lingering in the air. I found one, and it entered me, I am moving towards my peace. I wish to speak with Draco, may I come in?”

“Of, of course,” Hermione pulled the door open, curious as to how Luna had known Draco was in her room.

“Luna.” Draco nodded in greeting, wanting to get up and hug her but unsure how his embrace may be met.

“Draco, I saw you here,”

“No, no-one was around when I was watching – when I was watching my feet on the steps to make sure I didn’t fall in my haste rushing up…” Draco corrected himself clumsily, not wanting Hermione to know he had been spying.

“No, Draco, I saw you in my mind’s eye, you were hovering in her doorway, and then I saw her invite you in after you danced on the stairs.” Hermione turned to Draco, one eyebrow raised in question, and Draco closed his eyes. Luna had never been one to stifle the truth or understand when it was time to stop talking. 

“Maybe your inner eye needs glasses?” he laughed weakly.

“My brother. My love. My family. My friend. Draco, please, come here.” Luna opened her arms, and Draco stood and stepped into her. She inhaled as her nose touched his neck and Draco felt peace where earlier he had felt unease. Luna let go and floated towards the bed, taking the spot Draco had vacated.

“You wanted to know more about the houses?” Luna inquired to Hermione who was busy still twisting her hair into a braid down her left side. Hermione nodded. Luna patted the bed and beckoned Draco, who sat by her side. Luna placed her hand on his and Draco felt comfortable, his sister on his side, the girl who made his heart tender in front of him, all three finally together and sharing.

“There are four houses,” began Luna.

“Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff,” continued Draco.

“Each has its own merits, and each chooses students based on their values, their morals, and what is most important to the individual.”  
“Although,” countered Draco, “It seems to be an unspoken rule that family tends to be housed with family.”

“However,” interjected Luna, “that rule does have exceptions.”

“Let’s begin with Slytherin, ” said Draco as Luna said, “Let’s begin with Ravenclaw.” They laughed together, and Hermione felt a pang of longing for a friendship like theirs; easy banter, finishing each other’s sentences, comfortable in their physical proximity, leaning into one other to elaborate a point. Hermione knew that as long as she lived, she’d never have that – it wasn’t simply a matter of shared lived experience, it was being taught together, it was being raised with the same morals, ethics, understandings and viewpoints. It was sharing their formative years, whispering to each other under the stars, helping each other through injuries, sharing imagination during games, celebrating birthdays and always, consistently, simply being there. It was family. Draco and Luna had a bond Hermione felt she could never breach, even if she wanted to - and part of her did want to. 

Hermione had felt different when Draco had looked at her the first moment they’d met. It was different to how other boys had looked at her. Most looked at her as though she was odd, the daughter of a Squib and a Muggle, but with powers? She was a curiosity, an enigma. Something to be gazed at but never with which to speak. A sideshow freak. Blaise had looked at her as though she was meat, the same look he gave the server girl, the maid, the horticulturist tending to their greenhouses, and to Hermione’s mother, Governess Granger. Blaise had eyes for all women and told Hermione she should feel lucky to be included in his eye-feast. Hermione had felt sick and begun wearing double layers around him to protect herself from his prying eyes. Blaise’s mother had numerous partners, each would come on a different night of the week, each would bring a gift, a case of Galleons, a jewelled chalice, a crown, a piece of artwork, place it on the pedestal at the base of the staircase and then ascend to the private chambers of Miss Zabini. Each of the men had looked hungrily, greedily, at Hermione on occasion she had walked through the foyer at the time of the arrival. She was only eleven, but she knew what those men wanted. She made a point to avoid their lustful eyes and began using the servant’s stairs at the back of the house, although it extended her journey to her bedroom from the kitchens.

Draco… Draco’s eyes had been probing yet thoughtful. He had not looked at her body but her eyes. He had taken in her bushy hair, her buck teeth, her unsightly freckles, her ungainly limbs and knobbly knees, the knowledge she was the offspring of a Squib and a Muggle, and he had still made an effort to talk to her. He had called her mother brave; he had complimented her way of taking care of her daughter after going through a horrific ordeal. Draco made Hermione felt seen, felt heard, felt witnessed. When she saw herself through Draco’s eyes, she felt real. 

Hermione turned back to the mirror and continued fighting with her tangled curls. She watched Draco and Luna in the reflection over her shoulder and saw Draco lean forwards, rolling his hands out in a “continue” gesture. Luna smiled and nodded, understanding him without words.

“Ravenclaw is the house of my ancestors.” Luna began. “Rowena Ravenclaw, the founder of the house, wished specifically to teach those of us who have imagination, curiosity, a thirst for knowledge, the capability to look beyond what is known and experiment with what may be. My mother and father were both Ravenclaws. I have my mother’s old dress robes with me; I’ll be taking them to Hogwarts to wear for the Christmas feast. Ravenclaw blue, sparkling when the light hits. Would you like to see?” Hermione nodded, and Luna stood and unzipped her current robes, lilac edged with silver, dropping them to reveal the Ravenclaw blue silk beneath. 

“I wear them when I need to feel close to my mother. Having my mother in the Summerlands…” She looked away. “Living here with both my parent’s in the Summerlands isn’t so bad, you know. They’re not gone. It’s just that I can’t see them or feel them. I hear them, and I speak to them. Our bodies, well, they can’t travel through the veil… but our voices can. Our dreams can. My mother visits me in the night; she comes to my dreams on bridges of moonlight from the other side.” Luna nodded, validating to herself that her mother did, indeed, travel on moonlight bridges. She bent forwards, pulled her lilac robes over her mother’s blue ones and turned her back to Draco who immediately zipped her up.

“Slytherin is where my family hail from.” Draco began. He shifted to allow more room beside him for Luna. “We, well, we’re not all bad wizards. Salazar, the founder of Slytherin, he, he had ideas…” Draco’s gaze dropped from Hermione’s as a blush crept up his neck. He didn’t want to look into her eyes as he spoke the next words, not even through the mirror's reflection. “Slytherin is only purebloods. We’re known for our cunning, our ambition, our smarts… we are dedicated to our goals; we will achieve them through any means necessary. Some take this too far… but others, well, we have our good traits! We’re fiercely loyal, we’re protective, and we always stand up for one another. My father used to describe Slytherin as a family.”

“That’s because they are,” Luna whispered, dreamily, looking out the window, only half involved in the conversation. “Family… most of their parents are married to their second or third cousins. It has to be that way to keep the bloodlines pure.”

Draco’s face went from red to purple. “Wizard traditions are sacred, the magic in our veins must be protected from being diluted if we marry outside of magical blood, Luna, you know what happens!”

“My mother. My mother is what happens.” Hermione finished her braid and turned to Draco. She had not assumed he carried the same thought processes as the Zabini’s. 

“No, well, yes, but it’s not a bad thing, you’re the daughter of a Muggle, and you have powers!” Draco stammered. “It’s just better – it’s not better – it’s just, it’s just how it is, that’s all. I can’t excuse it, it’s already happened, but I don’t believe it, I just know that’s how they thought -”

“Think, Draco, not thought, present tense. Your mother is back.” Luna interjected.

“Your mother thinks this way, Draco?” Hermione questioned him, her heart sinking further and further as his eyes darted around the room to avoid hers. She kept her gaze on his face, watching for any hint of deceit.

“Yes….” He finally replied. “That is how my mother thinks… I don’t though.” He looked up at her startling ice-blue through thick, dark lashes. “I think marriage should be for love, not blood.”

“Oh… right. And the other houses? Hufflepuff? Gryffindor?”

“Hufflepuff is where I wish to be placed if I am not in Ravenclaw.” Luna turned to Hermione, a small smile on her face. “My auntie was a Hufflepuff. She said their motto was friendship above all. If you need help, they’re there, if you need food, they’re there if you need company, they’re there if you need anything, they’re there. They prefer a good time to ambition or cleverness. Their common room was full of music, dancing, exploding snap, enchanted paper planes, and practical jokes. They believe in equality. They believe, above all, in love.” Luna stared at Draco as she spoke the last few words. Draco was still looking at Hermione. Hermione turned from both of them and began packing up her hair accessories.

“Gryffindor is for those who get a thrill out of the adventure.” Luna continued, watching Draco as he watched Hermione. 

“The adventure of what?” questioned Hermione.

“The adventure of life. Bravery, courage, valour, pride and honour are what set Gryffindor’s apart. They enjoy fun like Hufflepuffs, but they enjoy competition more. They like learning like Ravenclaw’s but only if they can use that knowledge on something practical. They have the loyalty of Slytherin yet lack their cunning.”

Hermione zipped her small haircare bag shut and knelt down to place it in her suitcase. She had not fully unpacked since moving into the Malfoy Manor, preferring everything to be neat, tidied and organised for her travels to Hogwarts in a fortnight.

“Draco, do you think you’ll be in Slytherin?” She looked up at him; his face returned to his normal creamy paleness.  
“Probably.” He shrugged. “If I don’t get in I’d like to be in Ravenclaw.”

“I think Ravenclaw sounds wonderful,” agreed Hermione, “I would love to be valued as a part of a larger team working for communal knowledge, on joint projects, sharing our experiences and stories!” 

“I don’t think you’re Ravenclaw material.” Luna was still watching Draco as he stared at Hermione. She turned to Hermione, a blank expression on her face. “Blue isn’t for you.” Her voice was soft, and her words were not toxic, but Hermione felt the sting Luna had meant to inflict.

“I suppose we’ll find out when we get there.” Hermione countered, not breaking eye contact with the pale, blonde girl sitting on her bed.

“Yes,” agreed Luna. “I suppose we will.”


	4. Yet More to Come

Draco felt extremely uncomfortable. He had never before been to a party like this, much less hosted one. His mother had forced him into black robes with emerald green cuffs; the Malfoy name etched upon the chest in silver cursive. He was standing next to the fireplace, his mother to his left in emerald green robes with silver cuffs, the Malfoy name etched upon hers in black. Narcissa’s hair was plaited and woven into an elaborate bun atop her crown, emerald shaped flowers placed strategically, sparkling in the light of the fire. She was winding down from a lengthy speech; she had thanked everyone who had joined her son and herself in their home, thanked them for their continued friendship even after a decade of death. She had laughed, although her smile had not reached her eyes. Draco stood rigidly beside her, eyes scanning the crowd for Hermione. He hadn’t seen her yet, and he wanted to talk to her, to introduce her to some people before they left for Hogwarts the next morning.

“Lastly, I wish to thank my son, Draco. As many of you know he will be heading to Hogwarts tomorrow, along with many of your children.” She inclined her head at the Zabini’s, the Nott’s, the Greengrass’s, the Potter’s, and the Bones’. “Draco has suffered, however from his suffering rises strength. He is a Malfoy by name, and a Malfoy by blood. Through his veins runs the essence of the twenty-eight. Through his heart pumps the values of his ancestors. Through his mind flows the ambition, intelligence and aspirations of his parents.” She smiled indulgently at Draco while taking in her dues from the crowd, offering her son a compliment which paid its way back to herself. She turned back to the crowd gathered in front of her. “Eat, drink, enjoy. For tonight we celebrate the return of the Malfoy’s, and tomorrow we honour the next step in the life of our children!” 

Draco left his mother’s side as she was basking in the adoration of her guests. He had finally spotted Hermione, pressed against the back right wall, her face contorting with Narcissa’s words, an attempt to imprint herself and Lucius on her son. Although she was glad Voldemort was gone, she had not renounced the millennia-long held values of her forefathers. She may not believe in complete genocide. However, she did still maintain a superiority when it came to half-bloods, mud bloods, squibs and muggles. She knew her place, and her place was at the top of the pedestal. 

Draco’s stomach was churning. He wove through the crowd, ducking under arms, smiling when people greeted him, nodded at those he recognised, desperately wishing they would all disappear so he could reach Hermione and explain, once more, that he did not hold his mother’s values. 

He came to the place he had seen her to find a vacant space. He wandered around the perimeter of the room until he came to the back exit leading to the small courtyard contained by a large hedge.

He could hear gentle sobbing and instinctively knew it was Hermione. He pushed the double stained glass doors ajar and stepped into the frigid air of the evening. The sky was dark; the moon was merely a curved slit with an orange glow, the stars hidden by the clouds.   
Draco saw Hermione, in the corner, being consoled by Luna.

“It’s a shame, but you’ll meet plenty of others at Hogwarts. Don’t ever place all of your eggs in one basket, Hermione, a single basket can be accidentally crushed by a Crumple-horned Snorkack, or abducted by Nargles. Then what do you have? Nothing… No eggs, and not even an empty basket in which to place your hopeless dreams.” She carelessly patted Hermione’s hand.

“Ahem,” interrupted Draco. 

Luna looked up, her eyes full and unusually bright in the surrounding darkness.

“Draco… shouldn’t you be with your mother?” questioned Luna.

“My mother is busy entertaining.” 

Hermione stood, moving from both Luna and Draco, to stand by the Flutterby bush to her left, eyes skywards. Draco turned back to Luna.  
“Why are you telling her things like this, Luna? My mother just wants me to be happy.”

“We all heard your mother, Draco. You have your family honour to uphold. It is nothing of which to be ashamed! You’re the last Malfoy. You must court a pureblood to carry on your title and your bloodline.”

“Why are you speaking like this? Luna, you’ve never before cared about blood purity.”

“Before my father passed I didn’t, that’s true. Now, being the last of the Lovegood’s, I understand what your mother means. I, too, must marry someone with pure blood to carry on my bloodline. The Lovegood name may die with me. However, my father will live on in my son.”  
Draco stepped back. He had seen flickers of Luna’s old self from time to time, but he had now had to face that she had changed. Murdering her father, however inadvertently, had permanently altered the Luna he had once known. 

Draco looked towards the Flutterby bush. Hermione had vanished. 

When he turned to Luna, he was surprised to see how close she had silently moved towards him. “Luna! You, uh…”

“You taught me how to walk through the shadows, Draco. You can’t tell me you didn’t foresee this. It’s perfect, Draco.” She took his warm hand in her cold fingers. “We, together, are perfect. We are both of pure lines, both wanting to carry on our family legacy. We love each other, we are not too closely related, and we adore each other’s company. We should announce it tonight. Your mother will be thrilled.”  
“Announce what, Luna?” Draco was genuinely confused. He wanted this odd conversation wrapped up so he could find Hermione.

“Our ancestors were all betrothed by our age. The weddings, of course, didn’t happen until they were sixteen, seventeen, we can wait, but we should share it now! The merging of the Malfoy’s and Lovegoods!”

Draco dropped Luna’s hand and walked away, leaving the girl standing, alone, her empty heart beating slowly in the bitter cold winds under the fiery slit of the moon. Her eyes flashed as she watched Draco’s back slip through the doors. 

Draco no longer wished to be around people. He had no idea what Luna was thinking. This Luna was too different to the girl he had grown up with, the girl who had commiserated moving to the Manor, who deplored the luxuries afforded by his mother. He ran up the staircase and slammed his bedroom door, effectively shutting out the noise from downstairs. 

“Draco…”

The small, soft, gentle voice soothed his internal angst. He hadn’t known she would be here… or had he? 

Hermione sat on his dresser, her silver robes floating around her legs.

“I don’t know what to do, Draco. It seems that I have feelings for you. Feelings I cannot deny, or change, or remove.”

“I feel it, Hermione, I understand!” Draco felt relief wash over him as their confessions hung in the air between them.

“However… it cannot be. We are two worlds apart. You, pure blooded. Me, the daughter of a Squib, a muggle. I am a Mudblood, Draco. Your mother would never approve.”

“My mother need not know! We can; we can - we’ll find a way!”

“You mean to say we will hold our feelings in secrecy and shame until someone finds out? No. I could never. Additionally, our social standing is too far apart. You are a Malfoy. The last male heir of the Malfoy line. Luna explained to me that you and she are betrothed. I should have guessed. I understand how old wizarding families work. You and she share traces of blood, but not enough to be considered incestuous. You both need to pass on your blood to the next generation, to ensure the survival of your families.”

Draco felt as though Luna had punched him in the chest. His breath was tight, his teeth were chattering and his hands sweating. His stomach had dropped, and there was a slight ringing in his ears. How could she have done this to him? 

“Hermione, no. I am not engaged to Luna, she just, it is in her head, she wants, but I want something different, I want – I want you!”  
“I have seen how you look at her, Draco. Your eyes betray you. Your mouth speaks of things which cannot be. You and she share history, rapport, an ease which you and I will never have. You belong to her. I’m going to return to the party. I’m sure there is a tray I could be passing around.”

Hermione, tears in her eyes, pushed past Draco. Draco reached out in a weak attempt to stop her, she shook his hands off her arm and shoved his bedroom door open, her silhouette darkening as Draco watched her leave.

Draco stood there, for how long he was unsure. His mind was blank. His heart was dark. He needed to use this energy to do something constructive and so kicked open the suitcase at the foot of his bed to double check he had packed everything required for the trip in the morning. Robes. Gloves. Books. Parchment. Ink. Quills. Spares. This was ludicrous; he knew his case was perfectly packed, this tedious task doing nothing in the ways of distraction. 

He heard laughter coming from the other side of his door and wandered into the hallway.

“Draco! There you are!” Theo Nott, a short but handsome boy, was standing at the top of the staircase with Blaise Zabini, Marcus Flint, a boy their senior, Harry Potter and two others Draco couldn’t identify. “We’re looking for the girls. Daphne said if we could find them they’d let us play spin the butterbeer with them…” Marcus let out a high pitched shriek, and Harry elbowed him in the ribs smirking. 

“Marcus has it bad for Pansy, but he’s afraid of her father.” Laughed Harry. “My father beat her father up back when they were at Hogwarts, let him try me!” Harry threw his chest out and flexed his scrawny arms.

“Draco…” Blaise’s low, smooth voice carried over the falsetto of the other boys. “This is your abode. You, of course, have the first spin. Please, if you will, escort us to wherever you believe the girls may be hiding.”

Draco had no intention of joining the game. However, he did find the testosterone-driven exploits a welcome distraction from the Luna-Hermione triangle he had found himself entangled in.

“Come in.” He beckoned the group and kicked his door open. He strode to his dresser, sat in front of the mirror and tapped it with his wand.

“Show me, Daphne Greengrass.” Draco’s reflection wavered like ripples on water, and his face slowly turned into that of the eldest Greengrass girl. Daphne was sitting on a long red leather couch, a painting of an old man with pale hair behind her, a young blonde girl frolicking at his feet. 

“They’re in my father’s study. They shouldn’t be there; my mother hasn’t finished - ” 

“Lucius’s study! Let’s go!” Marcus was almost vibrating in anticipation. The boys marched out one by one and Draco scurried to follow behind.

As they wound their way through Malfoy Manor, one of the unidentified boys came to stroll with Draco.

“Your mother’s back. Must be difficult.” 

“It was a welcome surprise.” Replied Draco amicably, not wanting to disclose to a stranger. He eyed the boy to his left; he was tall, well built, and not overjoyed at the prospect of kissing the girls. “Your parents are?” enquired Draco.

The boy stuck out his hand. “Oliver Wood, son of Freya and Nikolai Wood. My ma is pureblood Scot, me Pa is a Russian Sorcerer. They’re divorced, but they’re here together. Gotta keep up the charade, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” Mumbled Draco. “Who is that?” He pointed to the other boy he couldn’t name.

“That… well, I shouldn’t talk about it… it’s not my family, not my business, you know… but well, I think you have a right to know. That’s Arachnid Black. He’s, uhh, well, Draco, he’s your half-blood cousin. Wrong side of the sheets and all that… Your uncle Regulus, before he began working against the Dark Lord, he met the sister of Potter’s mum, Petunia? A muggle? They… well, they had some fun. She showed up a year later with a baby, handed the kid over and told Regulus that it was up to him to raise the baby as she wanted out of all the magical trouble. She’d found herself a “normal man” to bed and had set herself up in a little house in a muggle village. He don't know anything about the kid. Arachnid is a year older than me. He sorta links you and Potter up there. Arachnid’s a decent enough bloke, but he cops a lot of flak, being a half-breed and all. Ain’t nothing wrong with his magic far as I can tell. He can fly, too. Decent flyer. Don’t matter; I’ll still take him. Do you play, Draco? Quidditch that is?” Oliver’s eyes had lit up, and Draco understood the reason Oliver was dismissive of the girls. Oliver already had a mistress, the game. 

“I have a few times, just backyard games with my sister.”

“Luna? Lovegood? She any good? We need more girl players, which house will she be in ey?”

“Uh, I believe Ravenclaw. Which house are you in Oliver?”

Oliver pointed to the lion’s head on his chest. Draco nodded, disappointed. It seemed as though all the decent kids were in other houses. He wished he could find one person to join him in Slytherin who understood the world as he did. 

They had arrived at the door to the study and Marcus pushed it open, strolling in flexing his biceps. Blaise followed, his movements so catlike he seemed inhuman. Harry strutted in next, combing his fingers through his hair, leaving it wayward, and falsely windswept. Arachnid stepped in and silently sat on the leather couch closest to the door. Oliver and Draco entered last, side by side and sat on a double seater beside Arachnid. 

Pansy giggled. “You found us! I hope you don’t mind; I invited some others.”

At that moment Hermione and Astoria entered the room. Draco’s heart lit up, and he felt his blood boil when he saw the way Blaise’s eyes followed her. Arachnid also looked at Hermione; it was a look of interest, free from overt lust and greed. Draco stared daggers at both, wishing he could locate the letter opener that had started this entire ordeal so he could end it.

Pansy placed the empty butterbeer bottle on the coffee table; her mouth parted to explain the rules when Luna entered.

“Room for another?” She whispered in a soft voice. She ignored Draco, walking to sit directly between Harry and Blaise. Harry nodded at her while Blaise gazed her steadily up and down, and then back up to meet her eyes. She met his eyes and stared him down, until Blaise, uncomfortable, looked away. Luna smiled and reached for the bottle. “I’ll explain.” Pansy flushed but stayed silent.

“I spin. Whomever it lands on gets to pick one of two choices. You kiss me, or you forfeit. If you kiss me, then you get to spin. If you forfeit you leave the game meaning you have no chance to kiss another.” Luna placed the bottle on the table and span. Draco’s heart skipped a beat as it slowed, coming to rest just in front of him. He was about to say “I forfeit” when Luna exclaimed “Oh, Arachnid! Which do you choose?” Draco looked at the bottle. It was definitely closer to him than Arachnid. However, he sat impassively watching as Arachnid stepped towards Luna and gave her a peck on the cheek. Luna blushed fiercely. Arachnid took the bottle and span. It landed on Daphne. Daphne stood and kissed Arachnid on the cheek before spinning. It landed on Blaise. Blaise didn’t move, making Daphne come to him and kiss his cheek. He lazily pointed his wand at the bottle, aware he shouldn’t be doing outside of school magic but not caring as they hadn’t been inducted yet, and the bottle span, landing on Hermione. 

Draco jerked and, from inside his pocket, pointed his wand, whispering so no one would hear and the bottle rolled slightly, pointing at Luna. Blaise looked furious. He sat impassively as Luna came and kissed his cheek. His eyes met Draco’s, and Draco felt as though Blaise knew what he had done. Luna span and it landed on Arachnid once more. She walked to him, kissed his cheek and handed him the bottle. He span and it landed on Hermione. Draco, feeling slightly more amicable towards the half-blood, did not attempt to move the bottle by magic again. Instead he sat, staring as Arachnid placed his thin lips against Hermione’s freckled cheek. Hermione took the bottle and span. It landed just between Arachnid and Draco. 

“Who is it closer to?” asked Pansy leaning forwards.

“Draco.” Said Astoria.

“Arachnid,” said Daphne.

“Why don’t we let the boys decide…” Luna’s suggestion hung in the air.

“I forfeit.” Hermione stood and left the room suddenly. Luna sat watching her leave, a smile of satisfaction on her face. 

“I’ll take her place, shall I?” Luna stood and moved towards Draco slowly, leaning down to kiss his cheek, and turning at the last moment. Their lips met. Draco hadn’t wanted this. This was not how his first kiss was supposed to be, in front of a room of people he barely knew, with the wrong girl. 

He pulled back and frowned at Luna. “I forfeit.” He, too, stood and exited.


	5. Unravelling

The Hogwarts Express was packed, the hustle and bustle of the children filing through halls, popping into carriages, screaming to people seats away, hollering for Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties and Acid Pops, cats meowing, owls squawking and a few of the seniors snogging in the hall made finding a seat difficult. Draco and Luna had arrived with Hermione, Narcissa and Governess Granger, but Hermione had boarded separately, staying behind with her mother while Narcissa promptly popped both Draco and Luna on the third carriage, kissed them both twice on the cheek and told them she’d be sending treats during the week. She apparated before Draco had a chance to hug her and he felt lonely and empty as he wound his way through the crowds. Luna followed him, quiet, but watchful.   
Draco came to a carriage and saw Blaise inside with Theo and Daphne, he slid the door open and tried to hurl his suitcase onto a rack above Daphne. Daphne giggled and knocked on the glass, at her signal Marcus walked in and used his wand to levitate Draco’s suitcase up.

“Slytherins always help one another, Malfoy. You need anything, don’t ask, demand. You’re no longer a child. Here, you are learning how to function away from the family home. A Malfoy demands respect. A Slytherin demands reverence. Got it?” He punched Draco on the arm and disappeared. Draco was taken aback and the sudden camaraderie but was happy to be instantly ingratiated. He flopped down next to Theo who offered him an open bag of jelly beans. 

“Just steer clear of the pale green ones, mate, and you’ll be fine.” Theo winked. Draco took a red one with purple flecks and popped it in his mouth. “Raspberry and blackcurrant if I’m not mistaken.” Theo murmured. Draco bit into it and felt the berry juice flow across his tongue. Xenophilius had always believed in a healthy, plant diet and as such Draco had never before tasted a Jellybean. 

“Why should I avoid the pale green ones?” Enquired Draco looking at the large pile of pale greens shoved to the bottom of the bag.   
“Try one and find out!” squealed Daphne, giddy with the excitement of leaving home for the first time. Draco reached for one and Theo smacked his hand.

“Don’t, mate, it’s not lime or lettuce, it’s baby vomit.” Draco withdrew his hand, and Daphne continued giggling. 

“Wanna go offer some to the Hufflepuff up the carriage?” She raised her eyebrows at Pansy who had just entered.

“Sure, I just need to find my money purse so I can see the lunch lady on the way back.” Pansy reached into her hat which was sitting upside down next to Blaise and withdrew a small coin purse bedazzled with real emeralds. “Got it, let’s go.” Daphne rose and the girls exited together.

Draco watched them leave and noticed Luna was still standing on the other side of the glass door, watching him. He felt uneasy. He wished she would go away and find some Ravenclaw’s to sit with. Theo, catching Draco’s gaze, opened the door. 

“Lovegood, you live with the Malfoy’s, get in here!” 

Luna stepped inside delicately and placed herself next to Blaise, directly opposite Draco. 

“Thank you, Theo,” Luna said quietly. Blaise gazed at Luna sideways, through slitted eyes. 

“Too bad you’re not green, girl. I can see what’s inside you. We could help you with that.” Luna turned and met Blaise’s sideway stare. This time Blaise did not shrink away or break contact but moved so that he was looking at her straight on. 

“Perhaps, Blaise, you will help me regardless of my colours?” Blaise blinked. He continued holding eye contact with her and then nodded before turning to look out the window, disinterested in the others sharing the carriage. 

Draco stood and stretched. His body was itching to remove himself from Luna’s presence. “I need to stretch my legs.”

“You’ve been sitting for fifteen minutes!” Theo said thickly through a mouthful of beans.

“Do you want me to bring you back another bag?” asked Draco to deflect Theo’s observation.

“Yeah,” Theo’s words were muffled through his food. He pushed his hand into his pocket and withdrew a fistful of galleons. “And whatever else you want. And Pumpkin pasties. Love those things.” Theo held the bag out to Luna who peered inside, and Draco took this moment of distraction to exit the carriage.

Draco wandered down the hall to the end of the train peering into each window. He stepped around other first years who looked lost, most likely Muggle-borns with no pre-school connections, and under the arms of a sixth year who was lifting his suitcase over his head to show off for a girl leaning on the carriage door opposite, smirking at him. Draco reached the end of the train and turned to walk back to the front, when he saw Hermione open a carriage door he had just checked, her arms full of pumpkin pasties and chocolate frogs. He scurried towards the door and peered in. Arachnid sat by the window, a red-headed boy covered in freckles with dirt on his nose was talking animatedly to a pale boy with curly hair, and a tall girl with dark hair was reading a magazine opposite Arachnid. The carriage was packed, but Draco wanted to try and mend fences, so he opened the door and stepped in, standing at the entrance as there was nowhere to sit.  
The red headed boy looked up and smiled. “I’m Ron!” He said brightly, extending his hand.

“I’m Draco. Draco Malfoy.” Responded Draco. The carriage went silent. All eyes aside from Hermione’s and Arachnid’s were staring intensely at Draco. 

“Your mother came back from the dead…” The girl with the dark hair said, her magazine lying forgotten on the floor. 

“Uh, yeah.” Draco stammered. 

The girl reached out, offering her hand, pushing Ron’s hand aside. “Angelina Johnson.”

Draco shook her hand tentatively, then accepted Ron’s proffered hand, also. 

“I’m Anthony Goldstein.” Said the curly haired boy, sticking his fingers out.

Draco shook it and then turned to Hermione.

“Hermione? Can we maybe go somewhere and chat?”

“No, there’s nowhere on the train viable for a chat, Draco.” She turned to look out the window.

“I can find somewhere. We could go to the Slytherin carriage; they’d leave us be for a while?” Draco suggested hopefully. 

“Throwing your friends out of their carriage isn’t a very nice thing to do. I didn’t think you’d abuse your Malfoy privilege like that.”

Draco flushed. He knew Hermione understood he was simply offering some privacy, and he also understood she was rebuffing him publicly to distance herself from him due to still believing he was betrothed to Luna.

“Hermione, I think we need to talk,” Draco pressed on.

“She said no, mate. Leave it be.” Arachnid’s voice was soft but firm. He had finally turned from the window and was staring at Draco with dark eyes. “You should get going, now Draco. Slytherin’s tend to stick together. If you’re gone from the nest too long the other snakes, they’ll come searching.”

Arachnid turned, dismissing Draco with his silence. Hermione continued looking at the passing trees and paddocks. Draco, defeated, stepped backwards and closed the door. He didn’t feel like going back to the Slytherin carriage and instead wandered the hall, watching the others as they danced and scurried, ate and gossiped. A few of the 7th years had sneaked in their father's fire whisky and were now drunkenly singing the Hogwarts song. Draco smiled as he listened to them, they were out of tune and pitchy, one was collapsing on the other two, and a pack of girls nearby were pointing and laughing. 

As Draco watched them, he wondered what life would have been like had his mother not come back from the dead. He would have been sent off by Xenophilius, the only father he’d ever really known. Luna would be the same as she had bene their entire childhood. Draco would be meeting Hermione for the first time. He’d be just like the other first years, anticipatory, nervous, excited, perhaps giggling and enjoying the antics on the train ride. Instead, he was hurting. He was glad his mother had returned but was sad that it had cost him the life he’d known. His heart was aching for Hermione, and for Luna, too; not the Luna she was now, the Luna he had lost. He was grieving for his surrogate father, and now for his sister. Draco sighed and continued walking, passing the singers, his goal to find the lunch lady.

Draco arrived back at the Slytherin carriage a while later. Luna was no longer there, and he felt comfortable as he entered and threw himself down next to Blaise. He emptied his pockets onto the seat next to Theo, five pumpkin pasties, three boxes of beans, two handfuls of chocolate frogs, acid pops, three bars of Honeydukes chocolate, cockroach clusters and a flagon of pumpkin juice. Theo reached for the pumpkin juice and threw a pumpkin Pasty at Blaise and Draco. They ate happily, in silence for a few minutes before the girls returned.   
“Pansy made someone cry,” Daphne was in tears herself, though hers were from laughter.

“You dared me!” Pansy poked Daphne on the shoulder, and they both collapsed in giggles onto the food riddled seat next to Theo. They hunched together and pushed the food onto Theo’s lap, each unwrapping a chocolate frog and biting the head off. Pansy gestured at Theo for the flagon, and he passed it over, she chugged it back and passed it to Daphne who swallowed a small mouthful then closed it and offered it to Draco. Draco took it, uncapped it and opened his mouth, he hadn’t realised how thirsty he was. When the liquid hit his throat, he felt it burning. His eyes watered and he felt an elastic band tightening around his brain. 

“This…” he coughed, “This is not pumpkin juice!” 

“Course not.” Agreed Pansy. “It’s fire whisky.”

“I ordered pumpkin juice!” 

“Draco, you’re a Slytherin, when is that going to sink in? There are traditions – Oh God, of course, your parents… Your mother is still figuring out life after being brought back…” She giggled. “Slytherins are always given fire whisky by the lunch lady on our first trip. It’s tradition. Helps calm the nerves. It also has a truth seering potion in it. We can see who around us are lying. Helps us figure out quickly who, in the other houses, we can trust, who we can’t, and who we can use to our advantage.” 

“Truth seering?”

“Sure. See that Ravenclaw out there?” She pointed towards the glass door to a second year standing just outside their carriage. “Go ask her a question. Come back and tell us what you see.”

Draco stood, slightly unsteady, he had never chugged fire whisky before and felt warm and happy, but also slightly ungainly. He opened the door and stepped in front of the girl.

“Uh… uh, which house are you in?” Draco asked.

“Ravenclaw.” She said, her right eyebrow raised. “Why?” Draco watched as he saw her aura expand. It was swirling around her, with pastel blues, purples, pinks and a lining of pure white. 

“I was curious, I’ve never met you before. May I ask your name?”

“Cho Chang, and you’re Draco Malfoy. Are you alright?” 

“Yes, I, I was wondering if I can borrow a pencil?”

“I don’t think I have one. Maybe Marietta has one.” Cho turned to the girl behind her talking to a tall boy. “Marietta, do you have a pencil he can borrow?” Marietta’s aura was the same as Cho’s, until she spoke.

“No. No I don’t.” Her lie caused a flash of black through the pastels, and Draco felt her reasons rather than hearing or seeing them – Marietta was afraid of Draco; his family had a dark past, his mother had been resurrected, she did not trust nor like him, and although she had many pencils in her pocket she did not wish to share with the Malfoy boy.

“Sorry, Draco.” Cho shrugged and then walked off.

Draco was perplexed. He’d half expected the potion to be a lie or a trick. It worked. His heart was beating now. He knew what he had to do. He threw the Slytherin door open and grabbed the flagon, startling the occupants, then began running back down the carriage towards Hermione. He pushed people aside and tripped at one point, but got back and kept going. He found her carriage, there were only three people inside now, Angelina, Anthony and Hermione. Draco entered and sat next to her. Her aura was perfect. A white light exuding from her centre, threads of silver and gold with pink and purple splotches weaving between.

“Hermione,” he panted. “I like you.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Draco, you can’t, you’re going to marry – “

“No, I’m not. I can prove it. Drink this.”

“What is it?”

“Uhh, Angelina, Anthony, could you please maybe give us a moment?”

Angelina folded her magazine. “Whatever.” She exited. Anthony grimaced. “It’s crowded out there, I found this carriage myself, and if it’s all the same, I’d rather stay.” Draco extended five galleons. 

“Please, go buy something from the lunch lady, and you can come right back.”

“Hmm… well, I do have a hankering for a chocolate frog.” He eyed Draco as he left, sliding the door shut behind him.

“It’s a truth seering potion. It’s part of the Slytherin tradition. If you drink it you can see a person’s aura; it will show you if I’m lying.”  
Hermione stared at him.

“Please, Hermione, just try it.” Draco implored her. 

Hermione sighed. She took the flagon and sniffed it. “Draco, this is fire whisky!”

“The potion is IN the fire whisky!” 

“Do you know how you sound? Are you trying to get me drunk before the sorting?”

“No, I promise you, no, you need only the smallest sip. If it doesn’t work at least your nerves will be calm before the sorting.” Draco’s face was scrunched up in pain. 

Hermione relented. She brought the flagon to her mouth and took a small sip. She coughed and handed it back to Draco. “That was disgusti – Ohh!” Draco’s aura had suddenly appeared around him. Hermione was staring into a lilac and silver field with deep green streaks running through the energy. 

“Ask me anything!” Draco exclaimed.

“Are you… are you betrothed to Luna?”

“No.” His aura stayed the same.

“Are you betrothed to anyone?”

“No.” His aura did not shift.

“How do I know if this is working?”

“Ask me a control question, and I’ll lie.”

“Is your name Draco Malfoy?”

“No.” A flash of black shot through Draco’s lilac surrounding. Hermione startled and flinched. 

“Why would Luna lie to me?” questioned Hermione.

“I think she’s just really hurting. She lost her mother when she was young. Then she killed her father. I think this obsession she has with marrying me may be her way of trying to hold on to the only family she has left, her brother.” Hermione nodded, trying to understand the lengths a person could go to feel safe.

“You’re wrong, young Master Malfoy…” 

Hermione and Draco jumped. There was no one else in the carriage. They heard a click and Luna appeared on the seat opposite them. “An easy disillusionment charm. Too advanced for anyone your age.” She smiled. “I do not wish to marry you to hold onto my brother. You are not my brother.” She laughed, it was high-pitched and eerie, her mouth almost too wide for her face, her eyes slits above her cheeks. She turned to Hermione and raised her wand. “Obliviate.” 

Hermione fell back, dazed, confused. Her eyelids fluttered, and she looked at Draco as though she had never met him. Draco felt his heart shatter all over again. Just when he thought he had gotten through to her. He turned to Luna who was using her wand to compel Hermione out the carriage. “Go and find somewhere else to sit, dear. You hit your head. You’re discombobulated, but you’ll be fine.” Hermione nodded and wandered away. Draco tried to stand, to chase her, but couldn’t move his body. “No, boy. You stay.”

“Luna, why are you doing this?” Draco was becoming crazed. He didn’t understand what she was doing, why she was doing it, he felt fearful of her and wished his mother were near.

“I am not Luna, stupid nephew. Luna has been dead for weeks.”

“Luna? She’s dead?” Draco felt his eyes well up. The words hit him in a way only truth can. 

“When? How?” he demanded.

The Luna in front of him laughed. "You took the seering potion, Draco; you'll see my truth in a moment." She continued cackling as her appearance began to fade. The hair darkened, lengthened, curled. Her lips elongating and compressing into thin, dry lines. Her creamy youthful skin showing signs of age and the occasional blemish. In a matter of seconds, his aunt Bellatrix sat in front of him. “Your face tells me you can finally see me for who I really am. I was the official who came for you. I was attempting to reawaken my Master.”

“No! You’re locked in Azkaban!” 

“Am I? Or is my dear husband, whom everyone believes dead, there in my place?” She laughed. “The stupid little girl got in my way. She understood what was going to happen, she saw it in her vision when she dropped the tray of glasses. She knew what was coming, and she tried to warn you.” Bellatrix threw her head back, her chest rising and falling with her silent laughter. “I killed her the minute before she stabbed me, I transported our spirits into each other’s bodies, and I was the one who raised the knife and plunged it into the heart of my body, the body I had taken polyjuice potion to disguise. I took on the appearance of the child and murdered her spirit in my own vessel. What I did not forsee was the return of your mother. I was pleased. Our family blood is thinning; we must continue our bloodline!”

“No… No!” Draco was beginning to understand what Bellatrix intended. An image of the Ministry Official writhing in agony as Draco had sent a crucio came rushing to the forefront of his mind. Had he known it was Luna at that point, in the body, he would have never… Draco let out an anguished cry.

“Oh yes, Draco. Yes. I will continue to live out this life as the Lovegood child. I studied your new "family" extensively before I attempted to infiltrate. Obviously, I was not as convincing as Luna as I had hoped to be when I made the rash decision.Regardless. You and I will be married. Together we will continue the purity of the blood of Black and the name of Malfoy. I will bear you many children.”

“Bellatrix, you’re my aunt! That’s deplorable!”

“Nothing is more deplorable than allowing our magical blood to become diluted by cross-species interbreeding.” She spat on the floor. “I would marry every man in my family if I had enough wombs to carry children for all. You will not speak to that filthy squib offspring ever again, Draco, you will fulfil your duty to your family!” Her features began merging back to that of Luna Lovegood. 

“I won’t; I won’t! I will never marry you! When my mother hears about this!”

“Your mother won’t hear about this, though, child.” She pointed her wand at Draco’s face. "Imperius."

Draco smiled serenely at Luna's face as she waved her wand once more.

“Obliviate.”


	6. Every Circle Has An End

Draco walked into the great hall holding hands with his girlfriend, Luna Lovegood. He knew it might seem weird to a few around him that he was, at only eleven, betrothed, and to the girl who he had been raised with like family. But she was not his sister; she was his everything. Draco had fallen asleep on the train, in an empty carriage and dreamt of his future. He and Luna were to be together. 

They would marry once their Hogwarts education was complete, they would have a large wedding and invite only the twenty-eight. It would be held in the Malfoy Manor gardens, and Luna would wear a dress in emerald green with a large tulle skirt and a tight bodice. Draco would wear dress robes in black with emerald cuffs. Their wedding bands would be silver snakes, and when they held their hands together, the snakes would entwine. Draco would become a Ministry liaison, he would work towards the prevention of the dilution of magical blood. Luna would stay home and hire a nanny to help her with the children. They would have seven children, and they would name each of them after a Malfoy, to honour his father, or a Black, to honour his mother. Luna would want nothing more to do with her family; she would be happy to let the name Lovegood to die with her as long as her blood was passed on to the next generation. They would live happily until Luna passed on. Draco knew it would happen early; his dream predicted she would pass before her thirty-fifth birthday. He was not phased. He believed every day he would spend with her until then would be a blessing. 

Draco shook his head attempting to clear it before the sorting took place. He couldn’t believe he’d ever held feelings for some commoner. Hermione wasn’t even looking at him, pretending she didn’t know who he was. Pretending she hadn’t spent the summer at his home. Ungrateful little mudblood. 

Draco stood proudly beside Luna. She was beautiful, in her sapphire blue robes, her silver hair flowing down her shoulders, her smile, when she looked at him, her smile opening up new worlds. When she touched him, he felt at home. This is what love should feel like, Draco thought to himself, like coming home to family, warm and comforting and accepting. Peaceful. Almost as though there was something larger than himself, as though his destiny had picked him up and was he simply a puppet on the end of loves strings. Draco didn’t ever want to let Luna go. 

“Granger, Hermione.”

Draco snapped back to the here and now. Hermione made her way to the stool and sat still as the hat was placed on her bushy tangles.  
“RAVENCLAW!” The hat screamed. Hermione beamed and went to sit by Cho Chang.

Draco felt Luna squeeze his hand and he let his attention move away from Hermione back to his true love. He smiled indulgently at her.  
“Lovegood, Luna.” She let go of his hand and walked towards the seat. The hat was on her head for a full two minutes before exclaiming “SLYTHERIN!”

The Slytherin table erupted in cheers. It had been years since a pureblood from a differently housed family had been placed in green. Luna walked proudly towards the Slytherin table and winked at Draco as she took her seat. 

“Malfoy, Draco.” Draco was next. He sat on the stool and listened as the hat mulled him over. 

“Smart, yes, but there’s something blocking independent thought… not right for Ravenclaw… brave, true, but there’s something blocking independent action… hmmm… not Gryffindor, then. Loyal, absolutely, but with a zest of superiority. Not for Hufflepuff either. Right, then it had better be…”

“SLYTHERIN!” The hat finished aloud. The Slytherin table once more erupted in cheers. Draco smiled as he went to sit by Luna. He linked his fingers through hers and sat serenely by her side barely noticing as the rest of their year was sorted. Theo, Blaise, Daphne, Pansy, Greg and Vincent were sorted into Slytherin, too. Draco smiled as he looked down the green table. This was his family. This is where he belonged.  
The year went smoothly for Draco, in fact, his entire Hogwarts life went according to plan. He married Luna upon graduation; his mother planned the entire thing before he had even finished his exams. 

Luna wore the dress Draco had envisioned; he wore the robes he had dreamt of. They had seven children, beautiful children whom he doted on, Lucius, Bellatrix, Regulus, Morgana, Phineas, Drusilla and Narcissa. Draco felt each one of them was a blessing he had never asked for. He worked hard to establish his own connections within the Ministry, not wanting to rely on his mother, although she did help, and she lived with her son, his wife and her grandchildren until she passed away on Draco’s thirtieth birthday. Five years later Luna passed on.

When Luna passed on Draco felt as though a veil had been lifted. He knew he loved her, knew she was the only girl he had ever imagined spending his life with, but he felt… an emptiness. A chasm within.

Draco continued looking after his children; they grew and grew, until his youngest, Narcissa was off to Hogwarts. Draco was now forty years old. His wife had been gone for five years, his children all off at school, his work at the ministry beginning to bore him. Draco put in for a leave of absence and decided to take a trip to France.

Draco took to the scenery. He was unsure why, but he felt comforted every time he saw a tall, freckled French lady with long brown braids. His heart ached for something he couldn’t quit put his finger on. He woke every morning and descended from his hotel room to the café overlooking the river. He would drink two shots of coffee, nibble at a cheese baguette and then wander the streets of Paris.  
One afternoon he happened by a bookstore. It was old, and it was full of magic. He felt it from the street, the palpitations. He was drawn inside and began stroking the spines of the old leather bound books. One book, in particular, caught his attention.  
“Hogwarts, a History.” 

Draco picked it up and opened the front cover. The scribble on the inside cover seemed to trigger something, but he was unsure what. He flicked through the pages, smiling as he saw his old haunting grounds. The lake where he and Theo taunted Gregory by charming the giant squid to chase him around the perimeter. The hall where he had danced with Luna on his sixteenth birthday. The Slytherin common room where he had laughed and studied and fallen asleep in front of the fire. He felt distant, removed, from the memories. They were pleasant, but they felt as though they had happened to someone else, in a different life. He turned to the back and saw the book was only seven galleons. He took it to the counter and plonked it down.

“Just a moment.” A voice called out. Draco looked up and saw a tall, brunette with two tight braids standing on a step ladder; she was attempting to place an extremely thick book in a box which was obviously too small for it. 

“I think,” Draco began.

“Undetectable extension charm, it’ll go in, if, I, just, push!” She gave one last shove, and the large book disappeared into the black hole. “Phew! I thought it was going to try and fight me!” She descended the ladder and turned extending her arm. “I got this scar from attempting to shut away “Moste Evil Enchantments” that book did not want to be hidden!” She laughed gaily and looked up into his face, startling. 

“Malfoy.”

It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes, do I know you?”

“We went to school together. I’m Hermione Granger.”

“Granger…” The name tickled something within him. He recalled seeing her name in the newspaper years ago, Luna stating that Hermione was not to be trusted. And again, in school, when he had commented that Hermione was doing well in Arithmancy, Luna stating to stay away from the Mudblood. Draco scratched his chin.

“How have you been, Hermione?”

“Well. I married Arachnid when I graduated and joined the Ministry. He was an Auror. He was murdered in the field a decade ago. I was with the international Muggle liaison association for a few years and then tired of politics. I became a text archaeologist. I hunt down old books, evil books, and keep them hidden from the public eye. I opened the bookstore to keep me occupied between missions.”

Draco nodded. He thought he remembered reading something like that at one point in the paper, but couldn’t put his finger on it.  
“Are you ok? Malfoy? You seem… perplexed.” 

Draco’s mind was aching. There was something inside wanting to come forth. He pressed his fingers against the tip of his nose and took a deep breath in, holding for seven seconds and then breathing out through his mouth.

“I do that, too,” laughed Hermione. “When I get overwhelmed. My mother taught me when I was a child.” She smiled at him and took the book, swept his galleons off the counter into her anti-theft box and then began writing out his receipt.

“This was my copy.” She mused as she wrote the name onto the invoice. “I used to carry this book with me everywhere. It was like a friend to me.” 

Draco’s headache was worsening. The room was beginning to blur, he reached forwards, clasping the counter, as he stumbled.

Hermione ran around the counter, pointing her wand at a small couch in the corner, summoning it in time to catch Draco as he fell.  
“I think, I, may I have some water, please, Hermione.”

“Of course, Draco. Just stay there.” She returned seconds later with a tray, a pitcher of water and two glasses. She poured one for both of them and leant against the counter as he sipped slowly.

“Do you want to go for a walk, Draco? I find it helps clear my head.” Draco nodded, and Hermione extended her arm. He took it, and they left the bookstore, “Hogwarts, A History” sitting open on the counter next to their two glasses, as together they walked down the streets, towards the river under the gentle evening Parisian rain.


End file.
